


the potential of you and me

by Katranga



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Minor Angst, Oblivious Keith (Voltron), implied shallura, like it's summer so they're not in college but it's referenced?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-28 23:59:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10842192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katranga/pseuds/Katranga
Summary: “And then other times,” Lance said. “I’m just, like, dying to know what a mouth would feel like around my dick.”Keith choked on air and said, with absolutely no go-ahead from his brain, “I have a mouth.”Half-laughing, Lance said, “Is that an offer?”He pushed his wet hair out of his eyes. His throat was dry. “Is that an acceptance?”--The summer after freshman year of college, Lance drags Keith back to their hometown to hang out. But the two of them rarely spend time together without Hunk and Pidge around, because things had a way of getting out of hand real quick. This summer is... no different.





	the potential of you and me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! This fic may or may not have been inspired by this reddit post ["Confused College Bro Asks Internet For Advice After Spontaneous Gay Hookup With Best Friend"](http://katranga.tumblr.com/post/160392017678/confused-college-bro-asks-internet-for-advice) on tumblr, which is the main reason why they both think they're (at least sort of) straight to begin with.  
> Based off that, this fic could easily have been a nice 5k, but that was not nearly enough work for me apparently. I think I felt I had to hide the smut in between actual story? Idk, I hope it's worth it, lol.  
> The title comes from Death Cab for Cutie's 'I Will Possess Your Heart' because it's 2007, right? That's a relevant reference?  
> Anyway, please enjoy!

“Oh, come on,” Lance pleaded over the phone. “I’m gonna be bored to death with no one to entertain me.”

“I seem to recall you having siblings,” Keith said, phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear as he shook his frying pan.

He didn’t know what he was making. Whatever was left in his fridge by his roommates, who’d all left a week ago. He needed to go grocery shopping.

Or just go home.

“Josie’s going to summer camp, Hannah’s _working_ at a summer camp, Marta’s visiting family in Cuba, and Paula doesn’t count because she moved out last year, but she is coincidentally going to Korea to teach English.”

“Maybe I’ll go with her,” Keith joked, sprinkling some salt on his concoction. Probably too much. He added some cream to counterbalance it.

“You cannot make that an option!”

But the thing was, spending a whole summer with Lance was a bad idea. This was an objective fact, because the last time Keith and Lance spent more than three hours alone together, Keith wound up with a broken arm.

It started with Keith daring Lance to grab all the change out of the mall fountain so they could afford an extra-large popcorn at a movie that Pidge and Hunk both refused to see. The day continued in this vein of daring each other to do stupid shit, until Lance bet that Keith couldn’t make some huge jump on his bike.

He couldn’t, hence the broken arm.

Now, that had been junior year of high school, a good three years ago. They were all in college now, and Keith liked to think he’d matured. But neither Hunk nor Pidge were returning to their hometown; they got jobs for the summer away. And Keith and Lance had a way of riling each other up, challenging the other with little regard for sanity or safety, so a summer with just Lance seemed like testing fate.

But the college cafeteria job Keith had been working all year dumped him at the last minute—apparently they didn’t need that many employees over the summer. He might get an odd shift or two, but nothing steady until September rolled around. It was too late in the game to apply for any good jobs, and nobody he knew (Hunk, he meant Hunk, because he hadn’t bothered to make any new friends his freshman year) was sticking around.

So right now, his summer looked like it would be a whole lot of spiralling into conspiracy theory research holes online.

 “Look,” Keith sighed. “Even if I wanted to bend to your whims, I can’t. My foster parents got a new kid already, so where would I stay?”

“With me,” Lance said like it was obvious.

“At your house?” he asked flatly. “A whole summer, with just you, at your house? Lance, do you happen to remember spring of our junior year—”

“It’s not my fault you broke your arm,” he cut in. “You calculated the trajectory wrong.”

“Bet I could calculate it right, now.”

Keith sniffed at the weird meal he’d created and grimaced. This was gonna need some cheese to bring it back from the dead.

“Bro, I’m not gonna stop you from breaking your arm again, but that jump was too big for you then, and it’d be too big for you now.”

Keith opened his fridge. It was frighteningly empty. No cheese, no peppers, no garlic. What the fuck had he put in the pan?

“Whatever.” Keith grabbed a spare soy sauce pocket from the door and shrugged, switching the phone to his other shoulder. “I don’t think your parents are gonna want me hanging around your house for four months.”

“Oh, come on. You really think they’d have had five children if they wanted an empty nest? Ma’s already planning a special welcome home dinner for us.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I mean, it’s also technically a goodbye dinner for my sisters, but she’s making empanadas just for you!”

Keith bit back a groan of longing, scraping burnt bits off his pan. “That’ll be more for you, then.”

“Pleeeeaaase,” he whined so long Keith pulled the phone away from his ear.

He slid his lunch onto a cracked plastic plate and settled onto the couch. He set his plate on the coffee table, not quite ready to subject himself to his cooking. He stretched out, deftly avoiding the spring sprouting from the middle cushion.

He tuned back into Lance’s whining halfway through, “—on, I haven’t seen you like all year. You’re always mysteriously “studying” when Hunk visits. Don’t you miss me?”

Keith and Hunk had ended up at the same college, while Lance and Pidge ended up at different colleges, but the same city. The pairs were on opposite sides of the state. They’d gotten together last week, and it was the first time they’d all been in the same room in months. And the last time they’d all see each other all summer.

He did miss Lance, a bit. He missed Pidge, too. He missed the four of them hanging out like they used to. Maybe he’d miss them less acutely if he made other friends, but everybody he met was so annoying.

Not that Lance wasn’t annoying, but Keith had gone to high school with him. Grew up with him. Grew around him, or Lance grew against him, or—the same phenomenon as when a tree looked like it had absorbed a bike that had been chained to it for years because the trunk grew around it. He’d just accepted Lance as an integral part of his life.

“I miss Pidge,” was what Keith ended up saying.

“Wow, you keep that up and I’m taking back my generous offer.”

He rolled his eyes. “What am I supposed to do there, Lance? I can’t work in fast food, I just can’t.”

Working at the school caf was different, because he was serving dead-eyed college kids just like him who didn’t bother to complain when the food was a little cold.

“You think that garage won’t take you back?” Lance asked. “Shiro loved you there for some reason.”

“Think it was my work ethic.”

“Sounds fake, but okay.”

Keith’s stomach grumbled. It was now or never. He stabbed his lunch with a fork and took a bite.

And promptly spat it back out.

He pouted at his sad excuse for sustenance.

“You said something about empanadas?” he asked Lance.

“I sure did!”

“Fine. If Shiro’ll take me back at the garage, I’ll stay with you for the summer.”

“YAAASS—”

Keith hung up before he changed his mind.

 

Keith wiped his sweaty bangs off his forehead and knocked on the familiar blue front door.

It opened in a second.

“Keith!” Lance’s fifteen-year-old sister, Hannah, grinned up at him. “If I’d have known you were gonna be staying here all summer, I would’ve gotten a job around town instead.”

He shifted his hefty duffel bag on his shoulder. “You’ll have a better time away than you will cooped up here, trust me.”

Hannah continued to hang off the doorknob, blocking the entrance. She flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“You got red streaks,” he observed.

“I did! My friend Carrie did it. Mama was pissed when she saw, but then Lance reminded her of the time you guys all got matching tattoos and it wasn’t such a big deal in comparison.”

Every time Keith forgot about that stupid cat tattoo him, Pidge, Hunk, and Lance all got after high school graduation, somebody had to go and remind him.

“Luck you,” Keith said.

Lance bounded down the stairs and shoved Hannah out of the way so that he could block the door. Long and lean and the tiniest, annoying bit taller than Keith.

Lance looked him up and down with a frown. “What’re you doing here?”

Keith stared at him. “Uh, you invited me?”

“No, I mean—”

“Actually, you _begged_ me—”

“You were supposed to call me from the train station so I could pick you up, Mullet,” Lance cut in. “How’d you get here?”

Keith shoved his duffel bag at Lance and walked in, since apparently he wasn’t getting a formal invite inside. “Red.”

Lance leaned out to look at the porch, where Keith had chained up his bike. “You’re still getting around on that shitty ten speed?”

“I will not have Red’s name besmirched like this—”

“Besmirched my ass. How many times did you have to stop on your, like, _two hour_ ,” he guessed incredulously, and correctly, “ride here to put the chain back on?”

Before Keith could lie and say not once, Lance looked down at Keith’s duffel bag in his arms. “Wait, is this all you brought? Please tell me you’ve expanded your wardrobe beyond that one cropped jacket and eight identical T-shirts.”

“Seven now. Hunk confiscated the one with all the holes in it.”

“What’s that I hear?” a voice from upstairs called. “Banter that only two people in the world think is witty? Keith, is that you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Hey, Marta.”

She came out of her room to lean against the banister, wrists crossed. She peered down at him over the rim of her tortoiseshell glasses. “Dude, you got rid of Lance for a whole year, and now you let him drag you back? Where’s your spine?”

Marta was only a year and a half younger than Lance, making her closest in age and, coincidentally, in attitude.  

Lance flipped her off with one hand and threw his arm around Keith’s shoulders with the other. “He was dying to see me.” Then he lifted his arm and shook it dramatically. “That is a _lot_ of sweat, my man.”

“I just told you I biked here.”

“Gross. Go shower.”

Hannah grinned. “I’ll get you a towel.”

Lance shook his head. “No, no, you go watch the oven while Mama is out.”

“Why?” she whined.

Lance shoved her toward the kitchen, saying, “ _Porque tiene diecinueve y eres asquerosa_.”

Four years of hanging around this family and two years of high school Spanish actually paid off. Sort of.

“Wait, who’s nineteen?” Keith asked. “And who’s gross? I biked here! It’s not my fault I’m sweaty.”

“Oh, you could never be gross, Keith,” Hannah said as Lance physically leaned on her to get her down the hall.

“Wrong,” Lance grunted. “He’s super gross. Tell her about the time you got a zit on the inside of your nostril, Keith.”

“What?” he said, confused. “That’s not really a story. It just… happened.”

“See?” Lance lifted a brow at Hannah. “He’s not even embarrassed. _That’s_ gross.”

Hannah pulled a face.

Keith grabbed his duffel. “I’m taking a shower.”

“Feel free to use my facial cleansers,” Lance said. “Your skin will thank you.”

“Such a gracious host, but I think I’ll pass.”

 

The amount of food spread across the table made Keith’s mouth water. The scent alone was enough to distract him from most of Mr. McClain’s speech about his daughters leaving the nest for the summer and welcoming Lance and Keith back.

Lance inherited his big mouth from his dad, so Mrs. McClain ended up cutting him off so they could eat while the food was still hot.

Paula, Lance’s oldest sister, was talking about the school she’d be teaching at in Korea as platters of food were passed around.

“You should bring me back something from my motherland,” Keith said, half-joking.

“I’m sorry, Keith,” Paula said, slipping her braid over her shoulder. “I’m not risking customs with knives for you.”

“I didn’t say knives,” Keith said.

She spooned rice onto her plate. “I heard knives.”

Keith looked to Lance. “Did I say knives?”

“Knives were heavily implied, bro,” Lance said.

Keith frowned. He _did_ want knives, but he didn’t like that he was that transparent.

Paula laughed. “Hey, if you make it through the summer with Lance, you deserve a reward. I promise I’ll get you something.”

“Why does everybody act like this is going to be some harrowing ordeal for him?” Lance asked. “Keith is my buddy. He is super stoked.”

Keith stuffed his face full of food so he wouldn’t have to respond. And then closed his eyes to savour the heavenly food gracing his lips.

Marta grimaced, dramatically wiping her glasses. “Lance, your buddy is drooling.”

Keith mumbled something, but even he wasn’t sure what it was. He swallowed and wiped his mouth. “Mrs. McClain, this is so good. Thank you so much.”

Lance’s mom chuckled from down the table, a bit bemused. “It’s the same recipe as always, Keith. But I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

He shook his head. She didn’t understand. He’d had cafeteria pizza every day for lunch for months. It tasted like cardboard but it was the easiest thing to grab in the caf. So much pizza. He was almost sick of pizza and this empanada was so. Good.

“When was the last time you had a home cooked meal?” Lance’s father asked, passing the rice to Keith.

“Your cooking doesn’t count,” Lance butted in before Keith could decide if that abhorrent mishmash of fridge remains had even been a meal. “I’ve seen you mess up Kraft Dinner.”

“Hunk cooks for me whenever I’m at his place,” Keith said.

Hunk was probably the sole reason he hadn’t starved or gotten scurvy yet.

“You lucky bas—soon,” Lance changed when Josie, his youngest sister, tilted her head at him. “You lucky bassoon. Hunk’s cooking is a gift to us all.”

“You two should learn to cook this summer,” Mr. McClain said. “Cooking isn’t just the way to a man’s heart, you know. It’s also the way to a woman’s.” He smiled at his wife. “Isn’t that right, _mi corazón_?”

She hummed noncommittally. “You know what really impresses women? Cleaning. I’ve been asking for the drainpipes to be cleared out for months, _mi corazón_ ,” she said with a heavy dollop of sarcasm.

“I can do that,” Keith offered, ready and willing to thank them for their hospitality by helping around the house.

“Suck up,” Lance muttered into his empanada.

“You’re welcome to help,” Keith said.

“ _Gracias, mijos_ ,” Mrs. McClain said before Lance could argue. “Such kind boys I have here.”

“Such broken boys you’ll have, with them both on the roof,” Paula said. “Remember when Lance broke Keith’s arm?”

“Gravity broke his arm,” Lance argued. “And he almost got me arrested.”

“That mall cop was nowhere close to catching us,” Keith said.

Worry lines creased Mrs. McClain’s forehead. “Raf, you might have to do it, after all.”

Mr. McClain sighed heavily. “You two planned that.”

“Oh, Papa.” Marta shook her head. “You give them way too much credit. They’re not smart enough for that.”

“Hey, I’m getting a higher education at one of the top colleges in the state,” Lance said.

She lowered her glasses. “Matching. Tattoos.”

Lance shrugged. “That was Pidge’s idea, and she’s the smartest out of all of us, so… jokes on you.”

Keith ate more of his empanada. It was going to be a long summer.

 

Lance’s sisters set off one by one through the week, gradually leaving the house widely empty. Lance did his best to fill the silence, helped by his dad. Keith and Lance’s job didn’t start for another week, so there was a lot of hanging around the house, playing video games, chilling out.

 They ended up helping Mr. McClain clean the gutters, which was dubbed a ringing success because they made it out with no serious injuries. A true miracle.

“A good skill to have, boys,” Mr. McClain clapped them on their backs once they’d finished. “Your future wife will appreciate you knowing how to maintain a house.”

Keith shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m not sharing my wife with Keith,” Lance said.

Keith snorted.

“No, that’s not—” Mr. McClain frowned. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

“And why can’t she clean the gutters?” Lance spread his arms, like he was sharing a powerful insight. “ _Equality_.”

“Well if you’re switching roles,” Keith began, “then you’d have to make meals and clean the house and do the laundry _and_ take care of the kids, and I can’t see you doing any of that.”

“You think I’m not gonna take care of my kids?”

“I think you missed the point of your Feminist Theory class.”

“ _Ay dios_ , I’m getting a headache.” Mr. McClain reached into his wallet and handed Lance a twenty. “Get out of here. Go see a movie or something.”

“Wow, thanks!” Lance grinned, lightning bright. “Are we gonna get money every time we argue? Because that seems like a great precedent.”

“Goodbye,” he said as he headed into the house.

Lance shrugged at Keith, still smiling. “We make a great team.”

Keith snatched the bill from his hand. “That’s not enough for two tickets and an extra-large popcorn, you know.”

“Don’t even think about it. You can jump in the fountain this time.”

 

Keith wheeled out from under the car to find Shiro grinning down at him.

“That was quick,” Shiro said. He pulled Keith to his feet and then rolled under himself.

“Ah, what?” Keith complained. “You think I forgot how to change oil?”

“I dunno,” he said, voice muffled and echoey from beneath the undercarriage. “You forgot to tell me you were coming back to town until—”

“I didn’t forget, I wasn’t even coming home.”

“And then?”

Keith wiped his greasy hands on a cloth. “Well, my job fell through, but mostly—do you remember my friend Lance?”

He rolled out from under the car, a black smudge now accompanying the scar across his nose. “I don’t think anybody could forget Lance McClain. Nice job on the oil change, by the way.”

“Thanks, I was worried I’d forgotten all you’d taught me,” Keith said dryly.

He’d been sent to Shiro’s garage by the high school guidance counselor, after some “behavioural problems” when he’d first been placed in town through the foster care system. It was decided that he should be using his aggression or whatever constructively, so he got set up at a garage. It might’ve ended up like every other stupid time somebody tried to turn his life around, except that Shiro took Keith under his wing like a little brother and was actually like the coolest guy Keith knew.

“Is all that knowledge doing you any good up at school?” Shiro asked.

“Yeah, actually.” Keith leaned against a tool cart. “I’m fixing up Red all the time, so I guess people just assume I know how to fix cars, too? Girls are always asking me for a hand.”

“You get any numbers for your trouble?”

“Uh, yeah, but just in case they broke down on the side of the road or something.”

He lifted a brow. “Are you _sure_?”

Keith thought back to the half dozen blushing, giggling women he’d helped through the year. He’d assumed they were just embarrassed because they didn’t know how to refill their windshield wiper fluid.

He frowned. “Less sure than I was.”

Shiro chuckled, heading over to the front desk where the phone was ringing.

“Shiro’s Garage, how can I—sure, I’ll hold.” He rolled his eyes at Keith. Covering the receiver, he asked, “So what about Lance? What does he have to do with you coming back?”

“Oh, he just annoyed me until I did what he wanted.”

“Yeah, that’s the Lance I remember.” Then he turned back to his call. “Hello yes, this is Shiro. What can I do for you?”

Keith turned back to the car, trying to push the memory of those women to the back of his mind. His obliviousness made him feel weird.

Almost every guy he’d talked to—or just overheard on the quad, or in class, or at a party Hunk dragged him to—were all kind of obsessed with girls; talking about them, hitting on them, “landing” one so they wouldn’t be virgins forever. It was a shark-like frenzy for the guys who never got any in high school, desperate not to finish their first year at college as virgins.

Keith didn’t have that concern. He was there to _learn_.

Although he had this sneaking suspicion he wasn’t as above it all as he liked to think. He almost failed a class because half the mark was based on the weekly tutorial and the TA was so. Hot. Too hot. Unfair, really.

That’s what the girl sitting next to him had said, with a sympathetic smile, after Keith stuttered through an answer about energy transference, because he’d been paying less attention to the TA’s lesson and more to the way his throat moved when he swallowed, and how his muscles flexed under his shirt as he wrote on the board.

Keith felt an uncomfortable mix of relief and disappointment when that class ended.

So he might kind of be into guys, but he hadn’t put much thought into the possibility, because realistically there were only three people (four if you counted Shiro) in his life that he actively sought out the company of, and what were the chances he’d find another? And one who’d be able to stand him?

So it wasn’t a big deal.

He’d barely thought about it.

 

Keith was covered in grease and sweat by the end of the day. He couldn’t track all this dirt through Lance’s house, so he headed to the pool where Lance was lifeguarding and cleaned off there. He put on the swim trunks Lance had shoved in his bag that morning, “just in case”, as if Keith did a lot of spontaneous swimming.

He’d been right just this once.

After showering, he headed outside. Lance spotted him immediately.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist the siren call of the pool,” Lance said as he walked over.

He looked… like a frat boy. Adidas flip flops, neon sunglasses, and neon tank top—one of those real loose ones where there’s a 50/50 chance of a nip slip. The only thing pinning him as a lifeguard was the shiny whistle around his neck.

“I was covered in grease,” Keith said.

“You still are.” Lance reached out and thumbed his cheek, presumably wiping away the last smudge of grease. He grinned when he dropped his hand away. “There you go!”

“Great.” And Keith took one step to the left and just. Sunk into the pool to hide the blush creeping over his chest. Which he convinced himself was the beginning of a sunburn. It was pretty sunny out.

He stayed under water longer than necessary.

When he came up for air, Lance gasped.

“What?” Keith asked self-consciously.

“You got the gremlin wet!”

“Excuse me.”

“Your hair, Keith. You’re not supposed to expose gremlins to—Hey!”

Keith slapped the water hard, sending a spray at Lance.

Lance pointed to a sign that read _No Glass No Running No Diving_ and said, “No splashing the lifeguards.”

Keith snorted.

“No snorting derisively at the lifeguards either. If you can’t respect the pool rules—”

Keith wrapped his hand around his ankle and yanked.

Lance fell in with a massive splash, sending nearby patrons fleeing to the shallow end for safety.

“Oh yeah? That’s how it’s gonna be?” Lance said, or something to that effect. Keith couldn’t really hear him over his own laughter.

Lance dunked him under water. Keith came up half-choking and still laughing as he grabbed for Lance.

Basically they made a spectacle of themselves in a public pool, until a shrill ringing pierced the air.

“No roughhousing!” A woman who was very obviously a lifeguard said. One hand was on her hip, the other held her whistle. Her dark skin contrasted against her silvery hair, twisted up in a tight bun. She didn’t look supremely happy.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Keith muttered.

“Don’t call me ma’am!” she squeaked. “I’m like two years older than you. Lance, what kind of hooligan have you brought here?”

Lance grinned as he grabbed his shoes and sunglasses floating around them. “This is my buddy Keith. He works at the garage with _Shiro_.”

“Oh?” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s um… nice.”

Lance hauled himself out of the water and winked at Keith. “She’s got a massive cr—”

She shoved him back in the pool.

“Allura!” he spluttered as he came up for air. “What happened to no roughhousing?”

She strode away, shoulders tight. “Your first warning!”

“My first warning or yours?” Keith asked.

Lance slipped his soaked tank top off and tossed it away. It landed with a _splat_ on the cement. “Ah, I gotta be on my seventh strike by now.”

The warm brown skin of his shoulder blade was interrupted by his little blue cat tattoo. Keith still couldn’t believe everybody else got theirs somewhere so easily exposed.

Of course, the downside of Keith’s was that when Hunk and Lance took off their shirts and Pidge pulled down her sock to show off their tattoos, Keith always grumpily said it was private and everybody assumed it was on his ass. It was not.

“Haven’t you been working here a week?” Keith asked.

“What can I say?” He winked again. “Girls love a bad boy.”

Keith grabbed his head and shoved him underwater.

 

“Fuck.” Keith’s first word of the morning, because it was five minutes before his shift started and his face was still in his pillow.

He tugged on a T-shirt and the same jeans he’d worn yesterday and threw himself into the bathroom across the hall, elbowing Lance away from the sink.

“Um? Good morning?” Lance was dabbing something unnecessary onto his face.  

Keith squeezed toothpaste onto his toothbrush and shoved it in his mouth. “’M gon’ be late.”

“Picked up on that.”

He narrowed his eyes and garbled, “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Because you’re a fucking demon when you wake up.”

Keith glared at Lance’s reflection as he spat.

Lance pointed back at him. “Yeah, like that.”

Keith tossed his toothbrush back in the cup and tore out of the bathroom.

“Hey, wait!” Lance followed him into the hall. “Brush your hair, you animal.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just—” He grabbed an elastic out of his pocket and went to tie back his hair.

Lance closed his eyes, praying for patience. “Is that a literal rubber band you’re about to put in your hair?”

“No, it’s a figurative rubber band.”

He shook his head, darting back to the bathroom. “You are such a boy.”

Keith dragged his fingers through his knotted hair, anxious to satisfy Lance so he could leave. “What’s that make you?”

“ _Refined_ ,” Lance said, holding out a comb and a red scrunchy.

Keith swiped the comb through his hair with a flat look. “You squirted squeeze-cheese directly into your mouth yesterday.” He pointed at the scrunchy. “And that’s too big for the amount of hair I have. Bye.”

“Wait!” Lance grabbed his face, chapstick poised and ready to go.

“You gotta be _kibbib_ —”

Lance spread it on his lips like he’d done a dozen times before, when he got overwhelmed by the sight of Keith’s chapped lips and couldn’t do anything else until he personally applied chapstick to Keith.

His face never seemed this close though. And had his fingers always been so soft?

Lance let him go and stepped back, proud of his accomplishment of making Keith presentable. “There. You’re a natural beauty, that’s all you need.”

Keith smacked his lips. “Mm, minty. Gotta go.”

“Though, you know, everyone benefits from moisturizer,” Lance continued as Keith raced down the stairs. “And an exfoliator. And—”

His suggestions cut off as Keith shut the front door.

He hopped on Red, pedalling full speed until he could convince himself the heat in his cheeks was from exertion and not the feeling of Lance’s fingers on his skin.

 

“So how goes it?” Pidge asked over the headset.

Keith and her were playing a fantasy RPG. He was staying in Marta’s room, which used to be Marta _and_ Paula’s room before Paula moved out, so he was using her old bed.

“I’m gonna need new armour soon,” Keith said.

“No, dummy. With Lance,” Pidge said. “I still can’t believe _you_ agreed to stay with him all summer.”

“Yeah, well, I managed to sublet my apartment at school, so I’m well and truly stuck here.”

“No broken bones yet?”

“Nah, but he’s got me on real thin ice with the other lifeguard at the pool.” In the game, he went around picking up herbs while Pidge sorted through her weapons. “Every time I go, he acts like an idiot, but she can’t exactly kick him out, so she just told me to stop coming by while he’s working.”

Pidge laughed. “You managed to piss her off that much in two weeks?”

“Lance is a terrible influence,” Keith insisted. “And a bad lifeguard—he keeps trying to drown me.”

“Well, thanks for taking one for the team. I was worried about him being alone all summer.”

A group of bandits showed up. Keith focused on slashing them with his dual blades, so it took a minute for Pidge’s words to register. “Why? I’m sure he’d have just bugged somebody else around here.”

“Yeah, but he just broke up with Nyma.” She swung her giant hammer around. “He was gonna be moping if there was nobody around to distract him.”

“Nyma?” Keith repeated. “Who’s that?”

“Uh, the chick he was dating?”

“When? I never heard anything.”

Which was super weird, since Lance bragged about getting smiled at by cute cashiers.

Like sure, they hadn’t seen each other much lately, and besides group chats, their contact had mostly consisted of tagging each other in dumb memes on Facebook, but still. Lance liked to talk. How hadn’t that come up?

“It wasn’t serious,” Pidge said. “I’m not sure if Lance realized that, though.”

Still weird that Lance hadn’t mentioned it in the three weeks he’d been living in his house.

“Was it a bad breakup?” he asked.

“It was a breakup.” He could practically see her shrug. “I try not to ask about his romantic life, because then I have to hear about it, and I can only feign interest for so long. If he didn’t tell me about it, it couldn’t have been that heart-breaking.”

Keith hummed.

Lance slapped his open door in a mockery of a knock. “Dude, I gotta show you something.”

“What?”

“It’s a surprise. Bring your swim trunks.”

Keith sighed. “Are we sneaking into the pool at 10 o’clock at night?”

“Sounds fun,” Pidge said through the headset. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“No, Pidge—”

She’d already signed off.

Lance grinned at him. “ _Vámonos_.”

 

The night was humid and dark. Only the murky lights in the pool lit their way as they hopped the chain link fence.

“Can’t you get fired for this?” Keith asked.

 “Nah. Everybody breaks in here,” Lance said, already throwing off his shirt. “I know, because of how many empties I’ve had to clean up every morning.”

 “That doesn’t mean _you_ can’t get fired.”

He shook his head and said something about not worrying, or “it’ll be fine” in Spanish, then dove into the pool, leaving barely a ripple. He did a few laps, fitting in with the water seamlessly.

“You can get it in,” he said to Keith when he just stood there.

Keith kicked off his shoes and dipped his feet in. After a second, he lost his shirt too, because there was a 50/50 chance that Lance would pull him in… more like 80/20 in favour.

For now, Keith watched Lance. It was easy to see how he’d gotten a swimming scholarship. He’d obviously spent a lot of time in the pool over the school year. The dim light lit the shiny muscles across his broad back as he swam.

“Don’t you get enough of this pool during the day?” Keith asked.

“You wouldn’t believe how little swimming I actually get to do as a lifeguard,” he replied. “It’s mostly just _watching_ people swim? What a load of garbage.”

So Lance kept swimming, the two of them chatting on and off, mostly about their time away at school, since they’d kind of lost touch. Lance had made a lot of friends, obviously. Gone to some wild ragers with the guys from the swim team.

“Please tell me you went to at least one party,” Lance said, lazily doing butterfly strokes.

“Hunk dragged me to a few,” Keith confirmed.

“And?” He lifted a brow. “Any drunken make outs?”

“Are you saying someone would only make out with me if they were drunk?”

“I’m saying you, personally, would only make out with a stranger if you were drunk.”

Keith snorted. “Fair. Didn’t happen, though.”

“Still got that V-card, huh?”

“Don’t call it that.”

“So yes,” he supplied.

Keith didn’t argue, which was answer enough. He wondered if Lance had hooked up with Nyma. He definitely would’ve told Keith if that happened, right? He’d have gone on and on about it in the group chat.

Lance switched to floating gently in the water a few feet from Keith. A playful glint took Lance’s eye. “Anybody you _wanted_ to make out with?”

That hot TA flashed in Keith’s mind.

He shook his head. “C’mon, you know me. I never… I was focused on school.”

“Yeah, well.” He did a somersault. “I dunno what you’ve been up to.”

Keith dunked his hand in the water, cupping it to pour it over his legs so he’d look less interested than he actually was when he said, “Neither do I. What was up with Nyma?”

Lance looked at him. “Did I not tell you about Nyma?”

“Nah, Pidge just did.”

“You two talk about me behind my back?” He wriggled his brows. “I hope it’s only good things.”

Was Lance really not going to talk about his ex? Was Keith really that interested?

It was just _weird_.

Lance shrugged when only Keith’s silence met him. “Nyma… wasn’t anything.”

“You didn’t shut up for a week after brushing Linda Mason’s boob at prom,” Keith said. “Since when don’t you brag about every lucky encounter with a girl?”

He spun around, splashing and groaning a bit like Keith was really twisting his arm about it. “She was just dating me to try to make her ex jealous.”

“Oh,” Keith said. “Did you know that from the start?”

Lance went under water, swimming to the other end of the pool before replying. “I could’ve guessed. Didn’t want to, though.”

“Well, you didn’t talk about her much, so you must’ve sorta known.”

“That’s what Hunk said.”

Right, so Hunk had known about her too. Hunk and Pidge both knew, but not Keith. Maybe someone had mentioned it and Keith just didn’t remember? Or maybe everyone involved just assumed he wouldn’t care about Lance’s relationship drama.

And they’d be right. He didn’t care.

Lance pouted. “I just wanted a girlfriend, you know?”

No, Keith didn’t really know.

“Hunk’s so lucky with Shay,” Lance continued, floating on his back. “She’s so nice. And he was talking about how when they get tired of studying in his room they just nap together? That’s so cute. I wish a girl wanted to cuddle with me.”

“Mm hm,” Keith hummed.

Yeah, he really didn’t care about Lance’s relationship drama, or lack thereof.

“And then other times,” Lance said. “I’m just, like, _dying_ to know what a mouth would feel like around my dick.”

Keith choked on air and said, with absolutely no go-ahead from his brain, “I have a mouth.”

Then he slipped into the pool to douse his suddenly overheated skin. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Lance waited for him to come up for air. Half-laughing, he said, “Is that an offer?”

Keith cut his gaze to Lance’s lean body, glistening under the low lights. Imagined pushing him up against the pool wall, chest slick under his hands. Lance hopping onto the concrete and Keith pulling down his shorts.

He pushed his wet hair out of his eyes. His throat was dry. “Is that an acceptance?”

The silence hung between them for a second, heavy as the water separating them across the pool.

And then the chain link fence shook, rattling them out of their silence.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Lance said to the group of teens halfway up the fence. One of them had a twelve pack under his arm. “This is private property.”

Lance ran them off, and then decided they should probably go too, in case they got pissed and called the cops on the two of them.

So they walked home, Lance packing the silence with stories about how stupid people were in public pools. Keith focused on ignoring everything from his waist down.

 

They both were off work the next day, so they were playing video games in Lance’s basement. It was some racing game, which Keith preferred over shooting games, which were Lance’s favourite, so they switched between the two, but Lance was obviously uninterested in pretending to care today.

Keith shoved his shoulder when Lance came in so far behind the game didn’t let him finish. “Dude, are you even trying?”

“It’s not my fault. This car is— _ugh_.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “I think you’ve got enough credits to upgrade. Even though you’ve lost every race so far.”

He flicked through the menu until he got to the store. When he realized Lance still hadn’t answered him, he tossed him a glance.

Lance was staring at him thoughtfully, a little furrow between his brows. “Was it an offer?”

His voice was casual enough that he could’ve been talking about anything, but Keith knew exactly what he meant.

He pretended not to.

Keith tucked his hair behind his ear and turned back to the TV. “I mean, I’ve got the store pulled up already—”

“At the pool,” Lance said.

His palms turned slick against the controller. He’d been ready to chalk that up to late night bull shit and never mention it again but—if Lance was bringing it up, it was because he didn’t want to forget about it, right? It wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d ever heard and he wasn’t freaked out. Right?

Keith chanced a look at Lance, who’d tossed his controller onto the coffee table.

“Um,” Keith said. “If it was an acceptance.”

“Really?”

“Ah, I guess.” He shrugged. “Why not, right?”

There were probably a dozen reasons _why not_ , but Keith couldn’t think of any. Especially when Lance’s shoulders eased at his words, and a relaxed little smile appeared on his lips.

“Yeah. Why not?” Lance agreed.

Keith nodded, setting his controller down. “Nobody’s gonna come home for a while, right?”

“Oh, what, _now_?”

“Yeah. You showered today, right?”

“Whuh—yes, I showered.”

“Okay, well.” He slid off the couch, onto his knees in front of Lance. “What, did you wanna light some candles? Sprinkle some rose petals?”

Lance gulped and he shook his head. Parted his legs, drawing Keith’s gaze to the bulge between Lance’s legs.

“Um, are you…?”

Lance lifted a shoulder. “Like half.”

“Seriously?”

“What? I’ve been thinking about it for an hour,” he defended.

Keith brows rose, suddenly a lot more comfortable kneeling between Lance’s legs like this when Lance had 1) been thinking about Keith sucking him off for an hour and 2) gotten hard from it.

He set his hands on Lance’s bare knees. “Well then.”

“So, uh… it better be good.”

Keith smiled, little more than a scrunch of his nose as he looked up at Lance. “You’re not gonna know the difference, my dude.”

He unbuttoned Lance’s shorts and unzipped him, the heat of him radiating through the material.

Lance shifted his hips as Keith pulled his shorts down, and then he was sitting on the couch in just his plaid boxers and a “Suns Out, Guns Out” tank top.

Okay, Keith was doing this. He was really doing this and Lance was letting him do this. Lance was very excited for him to do this, judging by the way his eyes followed his every move with rapt attention.

He just had to tug those boxers down and then his mouth was going on his friend’s dick.

Because, uh, why not?

Because… because he really wanted to.

Because maybe he wanted a dick in his mouth as much as Lance wanted to feel his dick in a mouth, and was that weird?

“You tapping out?” Lance asked, like this was another stupid bet and Keith wasn’t going to go through with it. “You don’t have—”

“No, I’m gonna.” He squeezed Lance’s knee to keep him from moving, though he hadn’t so much as fidgeted. “Just—just give a guy a sec. So impatient.”

And then he reached out and palmed him through his boxers.

Lance sucked in a breath through his nose, fingers spreading on the couch.

A ghost of a smirk caught Keith’s lips. “See? Good things come to those who wait.”

“Can you make some joke about coming for me because it’s not…” He trailed off, jaw hanging open as Keith pulled him free and stroked him.

“Coming to you?” Keith offered, hushed.

A smile peeked at the corners of Lance’s mouth. “Perfect, thanks.”

Lance was a hot, heavy weight in his hand. Right in front of his face. Keith licked his lips.

Lance let out a strangled noise.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he squeaked, hand coming to a rest at the back of Keith’s neck, fingers weaving through his hair.

Which Keith liked. So he waved him away. “Nah.”

“Seriously?”

“I don’t wanna, like, choke—”

“I’m not gonna choke you, dude, come on—”

“Okay, but if you do, I’ll bite.”

Lance inhaled sharply. “Is it weird that turns me on a little bit?”

“Definitely. Now shut up.”

Keith leaned forward and Lance weaved his fingers through his hair again, tenderly cradling the back of his head. Something tugged low in his stomach at the sensation, very close to where he was already straining in his jeans.

He pressed his lips to the head, leaking with precum from just his hand gently stroking his length.

Lance let out this little sighing hum, which got Keith thinking about how much _noise_ Lance was going to make. Like, Lance was a loud person normally. Lance getting a blowjob was going to be…

Keith pressed the heel of his hand against the bulge in his jeans. He wrapped the other around the base and dropped his head lower, taking Lance’s hot, hard length into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Lance breathed, looking down at him with wide eyes.

He almost felt embarrassed, sucking down as much of his cock as he could get, but Lance certainly didn’t look like he was going to make fun of him. He looked like he might blow right there.

Keith thought about teasing him about it, but his mouth was satisfyingly full.

He ran the flat of his tongue along the underside as he bobbed up and down. Lance kept up a steady stream of moaning, high in his throat, which was the hottest thing Keith would probably ever hear in his life.

As Keith moved, Lance’s grip would tighten on his hair, an almost painful prick against his scalp, but before it got too bad, he’d loosen his hold and pet his hair apologetically. He kept doing it though, like he couldn’t help it. Like Keith just felt that good.

Keith moved faster when Lance fisted his hair.

“Keith, oh my god, Keith,” he panted, head tilted back on the couch. His throat flexed, skin glistening with sweat.

Keith shifted on his knees, cock struggling against his jeans.

He adjusted his lip the tiniest bit so his teeth _just_ grazed Lance’s length on the way up.

And then Lance wrenched his head back.

For a second, he thought he’d greatly misunderstood Lance’s biting comment. Then he felt the hot wetness seeping over his fist. Keith pumped him through his orgasm, leaning back on his heels to watch him completely wreck that tank top.

Lance’s deep groan petered to a whine and he waved Keith’s hand away, going, “Okay, okay, okay.”

Keith let go and Lance was panting, looking down at him with this stunned expression.

Keith returned to the couch so he wouldn’t have to stare straight at him. Instead he stared at his hand, where Lance’s cum spider-webbed between his fingers. Proof of what had just happened, along his rock hard cock and the taste of Lance on his tongue.

After a moment, he just wiped his hand on Lance’s cum-covered shirt.

“Hey!” Lance protested.

“What?” he said, voice gravellier than he’d expected it to be.

Lance took his hand, sticky but mostly clean now, and tugged him forward so their lips met.

A soft kiss, a hot kiss, and Lance’s hand was in his hair again.

So that was happening, a kiss was happening. And god, his lips were so _soft_. Like, Keith made fun of him for his chapstick, but it really paid off.

A rumble of laughter bubbled from Keith’s throat.

“What?”

Keith murmured against Lance’s lips, “Mm, minty.”

Which Keith regretted the second he said it, because Lance leaned in and licked him. Not licked into his mouth—because Keith had already slammed it shut—just licked from Keith’s chin over his pursed lips and said, “Mm, cocky.”

Lance tossed off his shirt as Keith said, “That’s not what—”

Lance trailed his hand down Keith’s stomach to palm his dick.

A strangled whine escaped Keith’s throat.

“Go on,” Lance murmured, pressing kisses along his jaw. His bare chest brushed Keith’s arm. “You were nitpicking my word choice?”

Then he sunk to his knees. 

And how did Keith feel more vulnerable now, when Lance was the one kneeling, smoothing his hands up Keith’s thighs with a spark in his eye, than he did when he’d been between Lance’s legs?

Was it because Lance looked so confident, down to just his boxers and a grin?

He mouthed over his crotch, his hot breath seeping through the denim. Keith had to bite his lip to keep from releasing more embarrassing noises.

And maybe that was why his stomach was crawling up his throat. Because Lance was going to unravel him, and Keith was going to let him.

Keith was going to _love_ it.

His hands fisted against the couch as Lance undid his pants, dragged them down, and drew him out.

Lance’s hands were as soft as his lips, and both were on his dick. He kissed up his length, half a smirk on his mouth as he made direct eye contact with Keith.

Keith turned his gaze to the ceiling, focused on the weird stain that might’ve been a water stain or coffee. He was trying to wonder how coffee made it up that high when Lance sucked his head into his mouth.

Keith whimpered, but he tried to cover it up with a muttered, “Fuck.”

Lance slipped a hand under Keith’s shirt and laid his palm against his stomach. Could he feel the way it was swooping with every move he made?

Keith bit his lip. He wanted Lance to speed up. He wanted him to slow down. He wanted him to pause. He wanted him to never stop.

“Y’alright?” Lance asked.

Keith nodded tightly.

“You look like you’re in pain.”

“I’m not,” he gritted out.

Lance frowned and started to pull away. “Do you want—?”

Keith grabbed his shoulder. “Yes I _want_.”

Which was a horrifying way to end a sentence.

But Lance seemed appeased. He returned to his previous spot, snug between Keith’s thighs. His eyes lit up when he noticed the tattoo on his hip.

He rested his cheek against his leg, kissing the stupid geometric cat on his hip. “Remember when you got this?”

“Mm hm,” Keith hummed, teeth clenched.

He’d been the last one to get a tattoo that night, because he was sure someone else would chicken out. They didn’t.

“You thought you were _so_ clever getting this where no one would ever see it,” Lance said, mouthing over the sensitive skin. “And then the tattoo artist was this far away from your dick for an hour.”

“Yeah. Did not think that one through,” Keith admitted.

Lance looked up at him from under his lashes. Keith’s breath caught.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look like—”

“I’m just trying not to come in five seconds,” Keith cut him off. “Go on.”

His face cleared, like… like some metaphor about the sun and the clouds parting. Keith couldn’t conjure up anything too poetic because the sight of Lance grinning that close to his erection had him groaning again.

He threw his arm over his eyes, trying in vain to calm himself down.

“Alright, relax,” Lance said, lips brushing his overheated skin. “I’ll go _slow_.”

And he did. Lance worked him over achingly slow, lips and tongue and a soft suction that had Keith struggling not to buck into his mouth, biting his lip to keep from begging _faster_. Because he didn’t want it to end.

He melted into the couch, sweat dripping down his back as he clutched Lance’s shoulder. Lance worked him over diligently, like he’d never tire of listening to Keith’s breath hitching and bit-off moans.

“ _Lance_ ,” he groaned when the pull in his stomach got to be too much.

Lance hummed, questioning, mouth too busy to speak—and that was it.

Keith pushed him away by the shoulder. He groaned, long and low, stars bursting behind his eyes as he came. He finally let his hips buck up, into Lance’s fist as he stroked him through the long-awaited pleasure coursing through his system.

He opened his eyes when he felt Lance’s tongue catching spare drops of cum off him.

“Lance,” he said raggedly.

“Hm?” He grinned up at him, lips shining and swollen. He grabbed his tank top off the ground and wiped off Keith’s stomach—he’d pushed his shirt up his chest to preserve it. “You can’t afford to lose any more shirts, dude.”

And then Keith’s hands were on him. His chest, his arms, his jaw. Lance crawled into his lap, kneeling over him to kiss him. Lance’s hands framed his face, Keith’s ran over every inch of his warm, exposed skin.

Keith could taste himself on Lance, which was weird, but that didn’t stop him from kissing back just as enthusiastically as Lance.

They were catching up on what they’d missed; blowjobs, a kiss, and then a full make out.

 Keith remembered what Lance said at the pool. Missing out on sex had almost been an afterthought. He’d wanted to _be_ with someone. Nap together. Cuddle. He wanted that easy closeness.

Keith had expected that would be the last thing he’d find himself wanting, but he was relishing Lance softly sighing through his nose, his fingers tangling in his hair, his warmth pressing in from all sides—and Lance would probably make fun of him for that, being obsessed with his warmth ( _what are you, a lizard?)_ when it was the middle of summer and they were both sweating.

He didn’t care.

He could do this for hours.

But then the front door banged open upstairs and Lance’s mom called that they were home and.

Lance pulled back. Sat back on Keith’s knees, gaze flicking to the basement stairs.

And suddenly the sweat sticking to Keith was uncomfortable, his beating heart way too loud.

Now that their mouths were both free, they’d actually have to say something to each other. Something like “So that was cool! Let’s never talk about it again!” or, maybe worse, “So that was weird! We need to talk!”

Instead, Keith dodged the situation entirely by saying, “I gotta go to the garage.”

And as soon as Lance wasn’t sitting on him, Keith fled, zipping up his jeans on the way out.

 

 He rode around on his bike for a while, letting the afternoon air cool his sweat and hopefully un-redden his cheeks.

He wasn’t sure where to go. The parks all had children in them, so he couldn’t have an existential crisis on a swing. He hadn’t grabbed his wallet, so he couldn’t even haunt a McDonald’s while he freaked out.

Every time he thought he’d calmed down enough to go back to Lance’s and act like nothing had happened, memories would repeat like a movie.

Lance licking up his face. “Mm, cocky.”

Lance’s fingers threaded through his hair. He could still feel the phantom weight of his hand.

That first kiss, when Lance yanked Keith to him without a thought.

Lance grinning between his legs, smoothing his palms up Keith’s clothed thighs, so _ready_ to take him apart.

Keith dropped Red in the alley next to the garage and raced up the metal stairs to Shiro’s apartment.

Shiro had the door open before he even knocked, because the stairs were not the most stable and he’d made quite a racket.

“Uh, hey Keith. Everything alright?”

“Can I talk to you?”

“Uh… sure.”

He held open the door and Keith walked into an alternate universe where Shiro’s apartment was clean. The stove was on, pasta sauce simmering. A cutting board was on the counter, topped with a pile of celery and half a carrot.

A lit jar candle sat in the center of the kitchen table.

“It uh… looks good in here,” Keith said, momentarily distracted from his crisis.

Shiro rushed to blow out the candle, wiping his hands on his apron. Which was protecting his black button-down shirt, rolled up to his elbows.

“And you…” Keith trailed off.

“What?” He patted at his hair in a distinctly Lance-like manner. “Do I look okay?”

“You look fine.”

“Okay, well, you do not.”

Shiro poured him a glass of water. Keith chugged it back.

“Actually, can I use your bathroom for a sec?”

Shiro waved his go-ahead.

Keith washed his hands, splashed water on his face and then dried off on—were these new towels? They didn’t have any rips in them or anything. Weird.

Then he looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was a mess, his face was still red, from biking now instead of… sex. He’d had sex—oral sex, sure, but if he was gay that could 100% count as his first time. With Lance. His first time could be with Lance.

“Keith,” Shiro called, exasperated. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

He returned to the kitchen.

Shiro was cutting vegetables at the counter, so his back was to Keith. That was probably a good way to do this.

“I blew Lance,” Keith said.

Shiro paused. Turned around, brows drawn together. “Away? Like, you blew Lance—”

“Like a blow job.”

“Oh…kay.” He lowered himself into a kitchen chair.

“And Lance—he, too.”

“Okay.”

“And then we made out.”

“Alright, got it. That is all the detail I need.”

He nodded, and Keith nodded, and they were nodding at each other.

Then Shiro said, “So what’s the problem?”

“Seriously?” he squeaked.

“Yeah, seriously,” Shiro said. “Catch me up. I didn’t even know you were into guys.”

Keith sunk into the opposite chair. “I mean, that’s kind of… new information. For me. As well.”

Shiro tilted his head back. “I see.” He folded his hands on the tabletop. “So how do you feel about that?”

He responded with a massive eye roll. “Shiro, come on.”

“What? You’re gonna tell me you didn’t come here to spiral about your gay feelings for Lance?”

Keith pressed his lips together. Shiro was not wrong.

Shiro continued. “Okay, so—keeping in mind that I don’t need details—was it… pleasant? For both of you?”

Keith’s face heated. “Yup.”

“Great. Congrats.” Shiro shrugged when Keith just _looked_ at him. “Well? What are you worried about? What do you want to happen from here?”

Keith buried his head in his arms and groaned. “I wanna do it a lot more.”

Shiro hid a chuckle behind his hand. Keith glared at him through his bangs.

“Sorry, sorry. Um, do you not think that’s what Lance wants? Is that the problem?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what did he say after?”

Keith tried to sink further into his arms. “Nothing. His mom came home when we were making out and I took off.”

“Hm.” Shiro tapped his lip, nodding in an annoyingly knowing way. “Well, if he _does_ feel the same, he has no way of knowing it.” When Keith didn’t respond he added, “You know, because you ran away—”

“Thank you, Shiro.”

Keith leaned back in the chair and scrubbed a hand over his face. Shiro considered him for another moment before getting up to stir his pasta sauce.

“Smells good,” Keith said absently.

He chuckled. “Yeah, you can’t stay for dinner. Sorry, bud.”

Which put a time limit on how long Keith could stay. He wasn’t near calmed-down yet. He bounced his foot against the floor. “What if Lance doesn’t…”

What if Lance wasn’t actually into guys?

What if he just got caught carried away because it was the first time anybody had touched him besides himself? What if he hadn’t experienced some revelatory moment, but just another fun afternoon with a friend?

What if Keith was the only one with this raw, exposed feeling in his chest?

“He seems like a pretty understanding guy,” Shiro said gently, leaning against the counter. “I think your friendship will make it.”

Yeah. Shit. Their friendship. That was gonna be fucking awkward. If, as usual, they ended up on opposite sides of an issue—Lance ready to laugh it all off, and Keith wanting something so much more.

His phone beeped with a text.

It was from Lance.

Keith tossed his phone across the table. “I can’t read it. What’s he say?”

Shiro valiantly suppressed an eye roll and looked at Keith’s phone. “He says, _Hey, when are you coming back? Ma made tamales so you can’t be late for dinner_. That’s good, right?” Shiro said. “That’s normal.”

“Mm hm,” Keith nodded.

Normal, yeah. Everything could just go back to normal.

If Lance wanted to sweep their little encounter under the rug and pretend like everything was the same, then that’s what Keith would have to do to. Hide his raw emotions, bandage them up and hope they’d heal on their own.

And not kiss Lance again. Not get that heart-poundingly close.

That was probably for the best. Keith didn’t know anything about relationships. And one with Lance? Why did he even want that so desperately?

Fine, this was fine. Lance had made the right decision.

Shiro tapped the top of Keith’s head with his phone. “No moping in my kitchen. No moping at all. You’re gonna talk to him.”

“You’re not my dad,” Keith mumbled as he stood, taking his phone back.

“No, but if you come into work tomorrow and you haven’t talked to Lance, I’m going to be very disappointed.”

“That’s cold.”

Shiro held the door open for him. “Call me if you need anything.”

Keith grabbed his bike and got to the end of the alley, where he found Allura checking herself out on her phone’s camera.

“Um, hey?” he said.

“Oh, Keith. Hello.” She smoothed down the skirt of her dress. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I wouldn’t hang out in this alley,” Keith said as he hopped onto his bike. “There are always a bunch of mice nesting.”

“That’s alright. I quite like mice.”

Keith shrugged. “Knock yourself out, then, I guess.”

 

He biked back to Lance’s much slower than he’d been racing around town, but it still felt like he got there way too soon.

And then he had to sit through dinner with Lance’s parents pretending he hadn’t had their son’s dick in his mouth two hours ago. Luckily, something mildly amusing had happened to Mr. McClain today, so he barrelled through what would’ve been an awkward silence with a long-winded anecdote.

That didn’t help them after dinner, when Keith and Lance cleaned up and Keith did everything in his power to not so much as brush Lance with his elbow.

He disappeared to his room, dodging Lance’s offer of alien documentaries or video games. Sitting next to Lance in a dark room—on the same couch—was _way_ too much.

 

The next morning, Keith left as early as he could force himself to.

Lance sleepy and shirtless, or worse, wet and in a towel, might just end Keith. He’d noticed before, of course. He knew, objectively, that Lance was hot. But he’d never really _looked_. And he hadn’t known what those muscles felt like under his hands. In his sleep-addled state, he couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t push Lance up against the wall and—

So, anyway, he left early, spent the extra twenty minutes properly waking up at a coffee shop and then headed to the garage.

Shiro didn’t even need to ask, he just gave Keith a once-over and shook his head in mock disappointment. Or real disappointment, Keith didn’t know.

But Shiro didn’t _get_ it. Looking back, Keith hadn’t explained himself very well the night before.

So how was he supposed to explain himself to _Lance_ , the object of this embarrassing feeling in his gut?

For the next few days, he just focused on cars. Easy, uncomplicated, nothing to worry about except getting grease all over himself, which he didn’t really care about anyway.

He avoided Lance as best he could at home. He was walking this awkward line of being terrified of Lance saying anything and inexplicably disappointed when all Lance did was smile and shoot him finger guns every time he left the room.

This definitely wasn’t back to normal. This was the “why not” that they’d both shrugged off. Why not? Why not suck each other’s dicks? Uh, because it was gonna be the most awkward thing ever after.

This was worse than breaking his arm on the scale of stupid shit they’d got up to together. Somebody dropped the ball leaving them alone together. Who let them do this?

Keith was hiding out on Shiro’s roof on his break thinking these thoughts when one of the people who should’ve known better than to leave them alone texted him.

Hunk (10:56 am): _Has Lance been acting strange lately?_

He groaned before responding.

Keith (10:57 am): _Uh. No?_

Hunk saw right through him.

Hunk (10:57 am): _Okay, so you know exactly what I’m talking about._

Hunk (10:57 am): _Do you remember Ben Wyatt?_

Keith (10:59 am): _??? From that parks show?_

Hunk (10:59 am): _Yes. Do you remember the episode where he yells “Who hasn’t had gay thoughts?” on live television?_

Keith (10:59 am): _Uh… Not really._

Hunk (11:00 am): _Lance has sent me that gif five different times in the past three days, in between asking me if I think he’s attractive, and sending me the results of gay quizzes he’s taken on the internet._

Jesus fucking Christ.

Keith typed up a few different responses.

_I don’t know anything—_

_That’s new—_

_I’m sorry?_

He deleted all of them and went with something non-committal.

Keith (11:05 am): _Hm_.

Hunk (11:05 am): _Now, I’m not judging, I’m not accusing, but I am blaming you, because either you’re not properly supporting him through this crisis, or you’re the cause of it. And since he’s not giving details that’s what I’m leaning towards?_

Hunk (11:05 am): _In either case, please talk to him. There’s only so many times I can say “I support you” before it starts to sound condescending??_

Hunk (11:05 am): _I support you too, btw._

Keith (11:09 am): _Thanks, Hunk._

Hunk (11:09 am): _Now please, I’m begging you. Talk to Lance. You’re living with him. This is on you._

“This” being what? Being responsible for Lance’s emotional well-being? Keith wanted to laugh, but it wasn’t… not true. Like, they all looked out for each other. And Pidge had said last week that she was glad Lance wouldn’t be alone this summer. Keith was supposed to be, like, supporting him. Or, you know, just not be a giant asshole, because Lance was letting him stay at his house, and was so excited to have Keith around, and then…

Keith went and blew him, made out with him, got that achingly close like Lance wanted so badly and then fucked right off and let him freak out on his own.

Shit.

Keith (11:12 am): _I’ll handle it._

Maybe he should just kiss Lance again. That was definitely what Keith wanted to do. Lance, however? He had no idea. So shoving him up against the nearest flat surface and slipping his hand down his pants was out.

He couldn’t really think of anything else, though.

He went back to work, trying to figure out how he should go about handling the situation. Like the adult he was supposed to be.

Eventually, he just sent Lance a text that said, _Hey can we talk later?_

That would at least force Keith to say _something_.

Maybe an hour after he sent the text, he was working under a car when he felt a tap on his foot. He pulled it in so he didn’t get tripped over, but then he heard, “You almost done?”

Keith nearly knocked his head off a pipe rolling himself out.

Lance stood there in his swim trunks and thin tank top. He was supposed to be at the pool. Instead he was lowering his sunglasses to get a better look at Keith, jumpsuit tied around his waist in the heat, so it was his T-shirt getting all greasy and sweaty.

“What are you doing here?” Keith asked.

“You wanted to talk.”

“I meant after work.”

Lance pulled a face. “You can’t just say we need to talk and expect me to wait until the end of the day.”

Keith stood, grabbing a rag out of his pocket. “I didn’t say we need to talk, I said _can_ we talk—”

Lance spread his arms. “Well, we can.”

Keith wiped at his skin, trying to make himself presentable. Grease just smeared around worse. That didn’t stop him from doing it as he reluctantly led Lance to Shiro's office at the back. “What happened to lifeguarding?”

"It's my lunch break," Lance said. "Also Allura got annoyed with me."

"What’d you do now?" Keith asked dryly, falling into the familiar rhythm of snark.

"Talked about you too much," he said as Keith closed the door, sealing them in.

The resulting silence snatched his breath.

The walls of the office were half glass, so they were nowhere near private, but it sure felt like it.

All Keith could think to say was, “Oh.”

Lance slid his sunglasses to the top of his head, so Keith got the full strength of his gaze. “So? What’s up?”

His face revealed absolutely nothing, so Keith didn’t know what to say. Because he needed to know what Lance was thinking before opening his mouth and embarrassing himself with these feelings eating up his insides.

“What. What is up?” Keith leaned against the wall. “Good question. Um. Hm. Almost philosophical, really—”

“Do you think I’m hot?” Lance asked.

Keith was half-relieved his rambling had come to an end and half-mortified that now he had to answer the question.

Without really thinking about it, his eyes roved the lean lines of his friend, the solid muscles, the bend of his mouth.

He itched to reach out and touch all that exposed skin. He resisted. He shouldn’t even be thinking about that until he said some words. Set things—probably not _straight_ , per se, but… until they cleared things up.

So he said, “Uh, yeah,” like it was obvious.

Because it should be. Lance struck out with girls because of his cheesy pickup lines, but he got their attention in the first place because of his looks. His confident smile. His—Keith was getting carried away again.

“Who else? Do you think is hot?” Lance asked.

Keith wasn’t entirely sure where this was going, but this was better than trying to think of something to say on his own, so he replied honestly. “This one TA I had. He was… distracting.”

Lance nodded for him to go on, a bit of a smirk playing on his lips.

“Um, Wolverine? From the movies?” Keith said, oddly reminded of late-night sleepovers where Lance and Hunk would blushingly talk about the girls they had crushes on and Keith and Pidge roll their eyes and list all the cryptids they wanted to meet one day.

Except this time he was the one awkwardly sharing his crushes, hoping he wouldn’t get laughed at.

“It’s the claws, isn’t it?”

“It’s a lot of things.”

Lance chuckled. “Yeah, Hugh Jackman can get it.”

“Was there a point to this?”

Lance leaned against Shiro’s desk. It was as messy as his apartment usually was, so Lance had to move a few pen cups aside to press a hand to its surface. “Was there a point to you running away?”

“I—I had work.”

“Right,” he said without an ounce of belief. “And you’ve been super weird since then because…?”

Because he wanted to swipe Shiro’s desk clean and crawl on top of Lance on it. Because he wanted to kiss him, make him groan and gasp and blush beneath him.

Because after listing three guys in a row he was attracted to, Keith couldn’t think of one woman he found as hot as any of them. Any woman he’d have welcomed in Lance’s position on that couch, in his lap, kissing him and tugging at his hair.

His hands twisted in his jumpsuit’s sleeves tied around his waist. “I guess I just can’t act like nothing happened like you.”

“Um? You’re the one who fled the scene. I was waiting for you to say something. Anything.”

He was jutting his chin out expectantly like he’d done a hundred times before.

Only this time, Keith had to call upon every cell of restraint in his body not to grab it and kiss him.

“I’m so gay.”

His face lit. Apparently fighting for full control over his body meant losing control over his mouth.

The tension holding Lance so tightly seemed to dissipate. His shoulders relaxed. He almost seemed… pleased?

“Cool,” he said. “Cool, that’s uh, that’s super cool.”

“Super cool?” Keith repeated flatly.

Lance swiped a hand through his hair, knocking his sunglasses off his head. He scrambled to grab them before they hit the floor and then slapped them on Shiro's desk.

He cleared his throat. “I… am pretty sure I’m bi.”

“Oh,” Keith said. “Cool.”

In all his musings, Keith had never considered being bi an option for himself. He was either straight—because that was the default, what he assumed he'd been for so long—or he was gay. Because he liked guys.

Liking girls had never really factored into the equation. Which should’ve tipped him off sooner, really, but he’d also kind of forgotten about it being a possibility for Lance, too.

But that was good. That was… that made sense. For Lance. That made so much sense.

“Yeah, because, like, I like girls, but I also really like, uh…” He trailed off, big blue eyes just looking at Keith.

“Yeah?” he said faintly.

“Um, y’know.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Kissing you and stuff.”

Keith’s face got even hotter. Because the “and stuff” was sucking his dick. Slowly. With pleasure.

“Can we—can we do some more of that?” Keith asked.

Lance rocked forward on his heels, in those stupid Adidas sandals. “Uh, yes please.”

Keith shoved off the wall and threw himself at Lance.

Lance’s arms looped around his waist, crawling up the back of his shirt even as he laughed and said, “Oh, what, now?”

Keith hummed, backing him up against the desk and leaned up on his toes so he was just as tall as Lance. Warmth blossomed through Keith’s chest to his cheeks, to his hands, which he slipped under Lance’s shirt and splayed across his stomach.

Lance buried his fingers in Keith’s hair. “Shit, you know you’re really hot too, right?”

Keith grinned and reached for the band of his swim trunks.

The door burst open.

Shiro hung off the doorknob, face bright red. “Hey, I’m glad you worked it out, but you know this glass is normal two-way glass? This is a sham of privacy. Also it’s the middle of the work day? So please keep all body parts inside their respective clothing.”

Keith buried his face in Lance’s shoulder as Lance laughed. “Hey, what can I say? I’m irresistible.”

Keith punched his arm. “Go back to the pool.”

“Please,” Shiro said in a strained voice.

Lance squeezed his hips. “I guess I’ll see you at home.”

He swiped his sunglasses off the desk and walked out, tossing a glance over his shoulder to check if Keith was watching. He was. He lowered his glasses and winked.

Keith pointed vaguely, cheeks alight. “Go bug Allura!”

“Whatever you say, babe,” he called as he left.

And Keith was left with Shiro. His arms were crossed and he was looking to the heavens for strength. “I can’t believe I have to say this, but please don’t have sex in my office.”

Keith leaned against Shiro’s desk with a shrug, breathing still heavy. “You wanted us to talk.”

“I did,” he muttered. “I did want that. I regret that now.”

“Too late.”

Keith had been back to work for about five minutes before his phone buzzed impatiently with texts.

Hunk (12:54 pm): _Thank you._

Hunk (12:54 pm): _Also CONGRATULATIONS._

Hunk (12:54 pm): _You two make such a cute couple!!_

Keith (12:54 pm): _Thanks, Hunk._

 

They’d been together a few weeks, and it was going pretty well. He was pretty sure everybody was surprised, including Lance and himself. Keith had expected it to be a lot more awkward. Or at least a lot of inconsequential arguments.

But honestly? It was pretty much how it had been before, except now they watched movies snuggled up together and, more often than not, Keith snuck into Lance’s room at night so they could sleep together. Even if they didn’t actually _do_ anything, Keith found that he kind of liked spooning.

One Sunday morning, Keith was yawning as he left Lance’s room to sleepily duck into the bathroom before crawling back into bed with Lance.

At least, that was the plan.

He’d only gotten as far as stepping out of the room when he came across Mrs. McClain with a laundry basket on her hip.

Keith froze, wearing nothing but his alien-print boxers, leaving her son’s room at sunrise o’clock.

“Good morning, Keith,” she said when he just stood there, gaping.

“Hi. Um, we fell asleep last night watching movies,” Keith said. Was he over-explaining? Would a straight guy explain why he was coming out of his friend’s room in just boxers? Probably, right? For good measure, he added, “Just guys being dudes.”

Which was _definitely_ not normal, but it was already out of his mouth.

Mrs. McClain nodded. “Sure. Do you have any darks that need washing?”

His mind flashed to the black T-shirt on Lance’s floor that may or may not have had come all over it. “Nope! Thank you, though.”

She went downstairs without any other questions, and Keith hopped into the bathroom real quick to relieve himself before rushing back to Lance’s room.

He kneeled on the bed, shaking Lance’s shoulder. “Lance. Lance!”

Lance rolled over sleepily, pursing his lips and making little kissy noises, like all Keith could be worried about this early was a kiss.

Keith did kiss him, because Lance this sleepy was probably the most adorable thing he’d ever encounter, but then he said, “Lance, your mom just caught me coming out of your room.”

“Mm hm?” he hummed, still mostly sleeping.

“And I said we were just guys being dudes.”

A beat passed before Lance laughed himself awake. His clear blue eyes finally met Keith’s. “And what did she say?”

“She just went with it,” Keith said. “Is she super oblivious? Or does she know? How would she know?”

They’d told Pidge and Hunk, and Keith was pretty sure Allura knew about them too, but Lance hadn’t mentioned anything about telling his family. Keith was pretty sure they’d accept Lance, and probably Keith too, but him staying in their house? While him and Lance were hooking up? That might be where they drew the line. And Keith was really enjoying having 24/7 access to Lance.

Lance shrugged lazily. “I mean, she knows I’m bi.”

“She does? When did you tell her?”

“Like two days after you tried to blow me at Shiro’s.”

Keith slapped his chest, but Lance grabbed his hand and tugged him down so he was lying next to him. He tucked him under the covers again, legs entwined and body heat shared.

“And she’s cool with it?” Keith asked.

“Yeah. I, uh, think she may have guessed about us.”

“Did you tell her I was gay?”

“No, dude, I didn’t come out _for_ you. But you’re not too subtle about being totally obsessed with me—”

Keith rolled on top of him, pinning him to the bed by the wrists. “ _I’m_ obsessed with _you_?”

Lance blew Keith’s bangs out his face because he couldn’t brush them aside with his hands. He made those kissy noises again. “You’re the one refusing to let me go.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” he groaned before shutting him up with his mouth.

“I just worry about how you’ll survive without me after summer’s over,” Lance said.

Keith pouted into his neck, stubble catching his lips. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

“Yeah.” He tilted his head back with a sigh as Keith scraped his teeth over skin. “You’ll probably get tired of me by then anyway.”

He huffed a laugh, twining his fingers through Lance’s. “You think I’m gonna get tired of this?”

“I think you’re gonna find a cool new guy to do stuff with.”

And that snapped Keith out of his early-morning cuddly haze as well as running into Lance’s mom did.

He jerked back, letting go of Lance’s hands. “ _What_?”

“What?” he said, like that had been a normal thing to say.

“You think I’m gonna cheat on you?”

He shrugged, looking at a freckle on Keith’s shoulder instead of meeting his eye. “It’s not cheating if we break up when we go back to school.”

Keith pulled back even more, until he was sitting on Lance’s thighs glaring down at him.

A shivery tingle was creeping down his spine. Because he’d just started thinking that instead of being a tree grudgingly growing around an irritating bike, he and Lance had spent years mapping each other out. Growing with each other to fit like puzzle pieces.

And Lance was already planning to end things.

Keith pushed the dread aside to be pissed.

“Lance, we have all the same friends and your _mom_ knows we’re hooking up,” he said tightly. “If you wanted a fling, you’re doing a shitty job.”

“I don’t _want_ a fling,” he muttered. “But I already know how long distance with you is gonna go.”

“How could you possibly—”

“Because we didn’t talk last year,” Lance said. “Like, I know we were both busy and everything, but we barely even texted.”

“We talked,” he said indignantly.

“I think I called you _once_ in September. We never Skyped.”

Which was true.

The last spark of indignant disappointment fizzled out of him.

“I didn’t have anything to say,” Keith said quietly. “I wasn’t ignoring you or anything.”

His notification feed on Facebook had always been full of Lance tagging him in Buzzfeed videos and cryptid news stories. And Keith always responded. A quick like or an “I KNEW IT!!” comment. It seemed like enough. Like, not as in more would be too much, but enough to say they’d kept in touch. Enough to not make Lance feel like shit.

But they hadn't hung out a ton alone, it was always with Hunk and Pidge, so he hadn’t really known how to keep a text conversation going with Lance, or god forbid a phone call.

And first year went by so fast, and they’d seen each other during holidays, so Keith… hadn’t really noticed the disconnect.

Lance thought it was because Keith got tired of him?

"I'm just bad at keeping in touch," Keith continued. "If Hunk didn't live literally down the street from me, I'd have barely talked to him, too. And even then I sometimes went weeks without seeing him."

"How did you go weeks without seeing Hunk?" Lance asked, aghast. "You wasted a gift."

Keith rolled his eyes. "I know, I know, I'm terrible. But…”

He slunk down so their chests were touching again, hearts beating next to the other’s. Lance’s big hands ghosted up his sides and Keith pressed into his palms, desperate to be closer and only kind of embarrassed about it. 

“I’ll try harder this time,” Keith said. “We’re not breaking things off just because we have to go back to school.”

“Is that right?”

Keith nodded, face tucked into his neck.

Lance pressed a kiss to his hair. “Well, would you look at that?”

Keith hummed, already so lulled back into calmness by the rhythm of Lance stroking his back that he didn’t want to ruin it with speech.

“We had our first fight as a couple.”

He grunted in disagreement.

“And it was your fault, who would’ve guessed?”

Keith looked at him flatly. “It was not my _fault_ , it was a lack of communication—”

“Caused by…” He booped his nose. “You.”

“You wanna know what our second fight is gonna be about?” he grumbled.

A smile tugged at his lips. “Which one of us is cuter in the morning?”

“You,” Keith said, right as Lance booped his nose again.

Lance smiled even wider. “I think we can agree to disagree on that one.”

“Fine.” Then Keith made some kissy noises and they stopped talking for a while.

 

// October – Lance POV

“And I tell her my boyfriend’s obsessed with Beyoncé too, and she kind of blinks and goes ‘Oh’.”

 A grin caught Lance’s lips as he chopped up onions at the kitchen counter, phone at his ear as he talked to Keith.

Keith was keeping up his promise to keep in better touch. Lance had made him pinky swear for at least an hour long skype call once a week, plus texts and memes peppered throughout the day, but that had quickly jumped to a call every night. Mostly because Lance had some story that was too good for a text, but on this lovely Thursday night, Keith was talking about one of the girls who kept asking him for car help.

“Did you mention your boyfriend was devilishly handsome?” Lance asked.

“Didn’t come up.”

“Rude. The first thing I tell people about my boyfriend is always how hot he is.”

Keith continued on, a smile in his voice, “So she asks if I’m gay and I’m like yeah and she goes ‘Well that makes sense’.”

Lance stirred the garlic simmering in the pan. “Why, were you wearing that gay NASA shirt I got you?”

“No, it was because these girls are always flirting with me while I work on their cars but I never noticed and nobody ever told me, _Hunk_ ,” he finished pointedly.

“I mentioned it,” Lance heard Hunk say in the background. “You just didn’t believe me until Shiro said something—”

“So, that was a couple weeks ago, and I guess she tells all her friends,” Keith continued his story, cutting Hunk off.

“Have the girls stopped lining up at your door?” Lane asked, tossing the chopped onions into the pan.

“No! Now I’m like, the cool gay guy and they all want relationship advice!”

Lance burst out laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, and I don’t know what to tell them, because I’m pretty sure offering to suck a guy’s dick out of nowhere and ending up dating him is not a universal experience.”

Lance set his knife down, leaning on the counter for support as he laughed. “This is the best thing I’ve heard all day. All _week_.”

“Can you keep it down, please?” Pidge asked from the couch. “”I’m trying to watch a documentary on Big Foot’s son.”

Lance dramatically wiped a tear from his eye. “Sorry, I’m just dying over a situation my boyfriend is trying to deal with.”

"Myboyfriend?" Pidge repeated, scrunching her nose. "A rare and enigmatic cryptid. I haven't spotted him in many a moon."

Lance adjusted the phone, holding it with one hand while he stirred onions with the other. “Pidge is right, I haven't seen you in forever.”

"It won't be much longer," Keith said.

"What, Thanksgiving? That's ages away."

After having Keith down the hall from him all summer, going back to school was a way bigger bummer than he’d expected at the start of it. He’d _never_ expected to get into a relationship with Keith Kogane of all people, but once they started, he couldn’t believe it hadn’t happened sooner. They just made sense together.

It was the best summer of his life. Waking up next him, hanging out all the time, going on sort-of dates—just having him within reach seemed like a dream now. There was this hollow bit carving out his chest whenever he thought of holding Keith in his arms, and long distance was to blame.

“I miss you.”

“It won’t be that long,” Keith insisted.

Lance pouted. “No, seriously. I _miss_ you.”

Pidge groaned as she opened the fridge. “Please don’t start talking about what his abs feel like again.”

“I meant holding his hand, Pidge,” Lance said as he opened a can of black beans.

There was a knock at the door.

Lance tossed a glance at Pidge, but she was busy slurping down an entire gogurt tube in one go.

He left the can half-opened and headed to the door. “Hold on, babe, there’s someone at the door.”

“Did you order a package?” Keith asked.

“It’s probably just a—” He opened the door. “Babe?”

“You ordered a baby?” Keith said, in the hall in front of him and on the phone. “That’s weird.”

“Keith!”

He ducked his head, bangs falling into his eyes. He was wearing that ridiculous red jacket and the T-shirt Paula got him from Korea that read _Boyfriend Material_ in English, but Keith had checked the Korean lettering and it said dumpling.

“Told you it wouldn’t be much longer.”

The biggest grin stretched across Lance’s face.

Keith was an arm’s length away, because he wanted to be. Because he missed Lance. He wanted to be with Lance. So different from last year, when Lance was worried he was annoying Keith—in a bad way—with every weird video he tagged him in for no reason other than it had been a week since he’d talked to him at all.

Lance threw his phone in his pocket and sang, “ _Miss me, miss me, now you gotta kiss me_.”

Keith crowded Lance against the wall and framed his face in his hands without an argument. He caught his lips in a slick slide, warm and yearning.

Lance slid his hands up his sides and— "Wait, wait. Didn’t you bring a bag or anything? You didn't bike all the way here, did you?"

Keith tugged on his hair, a breath of a smirk on his lips. "I was thinking about it."

"And I said absolutely not," a familiar voice said from the hall.

Lance jerked away from Keith and threw himself at Hunk. "Hunky Monkey!"

Hunk dropped the bags he was holding and wrapped him in his arms. "Lancelot!"

Hunk spun him around like they were in a romcom, knocking Lance's feet against the opposite wall.

"Whoops," Hunk laughed as he set him down.

Lance tossed their bags inside and dragged Hunk in. "I can't believe you guys! Are you staying the whole weekend?”

Pidge nodded as she and Keith finished up their patented handshake.

"You knew they were coming?” Lance asked her. He snapped his fingers. “That's why you wouldn't let me go out for shawarma."

She winked at him. “This is better than shawarma.”

“You bet it is!” Lance grabbed Keith’s face and peppered it with kisses. Keith gave a cursory fight, rolling his eyes as his cheeks flamed red. “Hey, you can’t pretend you didn’t miss me. You were gonna bike across the state just to see my beautiful face.”

Before Keith could argue, Lance planted another kiss on his mouth.

“ _Desperate_ ,” Pidge sang.

Keith scowled at her, arm looped around Lance’s neck. “Well if that’s how you’re going to be, we’ll take our reunion elsewhere.”

He started shoving Lance in the direction of Lance’s bedroom. His face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Lance, you were cooking,” Pidge reminded him.

Lance shot a pleading look at Hunk. “Buddy?”

He was already at the stove. “On it.”

“ _Mi vida, mi corazón_ , I love you so much,” he said to Hunk. “We’ll only be like ten minutes—”

Keith squeezed his arm. “Twenty.”

“We’ll be out in half an hour,” Lance assured Hunk.

“I’m gonna turn the TV up,” Pidge said.

“Good call,” Keith said as he finished dragging Lance to his room.

Keith laid his palm on Lance’s chest and backed him up against the closed door. His gaze dragged up and down Lance’s body, a soft smirk catching his lips before they covered Lance’s.

He lined himself up against Lance, crowding in as close as possible like he could sink into him if he just found the right spot.

Lance roped his fingers through Keith’s soft hair, letting him try his very best.

Keith hummed. “Is that watermelon chapstick?”

“It is. I like to mix it up.”

His smile curved against Lance’s mouth. “Oh, I missed you, Lance.” He fisted his shirt before he tugged it off. “So much.”

**Author's Note:**

> Spanish Translation:  
> Porque tiene diecinueve y eres asquerosa: "Because he's nineteen and you're gross." -- Hannah has a little crush on Keith, which he's unaware of, but Lance knows and doesn't wanna make Keith uncomfortable by having his fifteen year old sister hit on him.  
> [This](http://i.imgur.com/5eQi0Py.jpg) is what the matching tattoos kind of look like, and everybody got their lion's colour. Also, I know everybody headcanons Keith with a motorcycle, but giving him a shitty bicycle seemed way funnier to me.  
> Anyway, thanks for reading!! Please let me know what you thought, comments are my lifeblood.  
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://katranga.tumblr.com) if you like.


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